


Tharkay Ex Machina

by T-Rex (tmishkin)



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: It's cold here too, M/M, Pre-Slash, Return of the Eyebrow, Upgraded flask of brandy to cask of brandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21546226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmishkin/pseuds/T-Rex
Summary: My favorite pastime, filling in the gaps in League of Dragons. Naomi Novik has said that her favorite ship is non-romantic Temeraire/Laurence and she also likes Laurence/Tharkay. This fic explores those relationships, with a special guest appearance by Miss Lung Tien Ning.
Relationships: William Laurence/Tenzing Tharkay
Comments: 31
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It was Tharkay, although that did not make any sense, of course."  
> The "Tharkay Ex Machina" concept didn't originate with me, so thank you to whomever came up with it.

Temeraire had been gone for three days. Laurence had dreamed of his death each night—by poison, by fire—there were so many ways even a heavyweight dragon could be killed. His chest ached from the still-healing bullet wound from the duel he never should have fought. Perhaps the news of his father’s death had affected him more than he had thought. And the frustration of watching Napoleon slip away to fight again in the spring.

Because he had succumbed to anger, Temeraire was alone. Alone, in danger that they should be facing together.

Laurence was slowly growing stronger: he could walk the circuit of the camp now without having to stop and clutch at Dyhern’s shoulder. The Prussian captain and his dragon had stayed close since Temeraire had flown off in search of his and Iskierka’s egg, begging Eroica to keep his wounded captain safe.

“Laurence, come quickly!” Someone was shouting outside his hut. He levered himself up, wincing. Wings in the distance, coming closer, the dragon flying awkwardly. Laurence lifted his glass to his eye—it was Temeraire, and he was injured.

Temeraire landed with none of his usual grace, his wings tattered with burns, his talons holding something cupped inside. A man stumbled out, nearly falling. It was Tharkay. Laurence made his way toward them as quickly as he could, while Temeraire lowered his head anxiously toward his captain. “You’re hurt,” Laurence said, caressing his muzzle. He put out his arm to steady Tharkay, who looked half-frozen, then pulled him close. 

“Tenzing,” he said. “I did not expect you.”

“No one does,” said Tharkay, returning the embrace. “It is part of my charm. But I have urgent news.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bundled in furs before a fireplace in Vilna, sipping a glass of mulled wine, Tharkay told Laurence what he had seen. “Four days ago, Lien and her entourage stopped in Istanbul with your egg, which they had forcibly removed from the Imperial City in Peking. They were paying a visit to the Sultan’s palace. I believe they will continue north and west overland towards the Alps. I told Temeraire that we may be able to intercept them near the French border.”

Temeraire was with the dragon surgeons, having his injured wings examined. In returning with Tharkay, his burns had slowed him so much that the distance he had flown in one day took two days to retraverse.

“We can leave in the morning,” said Laurence. “Let us look at the maps.” He stood slowly and Tharkay raised an eyebrow. 

“Will, what have you done to yourself?”

Laurence flushed and said nothing.

“Is that a bullet wound? Surely you didn’t . . .”

“I did. But it passed through cleanly, thank God, though everyone from Ferris to Roland has remonstrated with me for my folly. That is why Temeraire flew off alone, thinking me too weak to travel with him. If he had died. . .” Laurence paused and cleared his throat. “You have my utmost gratitude. I hope that your work in Istanbul was not interrupted.”

“Not at all,” said Tharkay. “And I trust that your rational nature has reasserted itself. You will surely do nothing impulsive in the foreseeable future.”


	3. Chapter 3

Covered in furs and oilskins, Laurence and Tharkay flew south and east with Bistorta, the grey Alpine feral who had found Eroica in the French breeding grounds. Dyhern had promised to see Temeraire’s small crew off safely towards Britain, while pressing an entire cask of brandy on Laurence “to keep them warm on their journey.” At his most optimistic, Laurence hoped that he and his motley crew would be reunited at Dover to prepare for the campaign coming in the spring. For now, he would help Temeraire search for his stolen egg, though with each passing day, their chances seemed more remote.

The cold and wind were fierce, but not quite as bad as in Russia. Here, too, Laurence could huddle close to Tharkay at the base of Temeraire’s neck while they considered how best to find the French egg thieves. He remembered how painfully cold the flying had been during Napoleon’s retreat, when everything from military strategy to social propriety had kept him sitting alone while the rest of the crew could at least share their body heat.

“I would like to use our feral friends as lookouts,” said Laurence, “if we can find a suitable base in which to conceal ourselves. They might bring a sheep or goat for Temeraire as well, with all the gold plate he has brought along to pay them. Anything we can do to stay out of sight can only help.”

Tharkay considered how to hide a large black dragon in an Alpine snowscape, reminding himself how much he liked a challenge. “Perhaps once we reach the French border, there will be a suitable crevasse,” he said. “Large enough to conceal Temeraire, but narrow. We’ll just have to find a way to keep him tolerably warm and comfortable if he won’t be moving all day. Not to mention ourselves.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stayin' alive in the ice crevasse and swapping stories--everything's better with brandy.

And so it was that Tharkay found himself hanging from a pickax with one arm while stuffing pilfered straw around Temeraire with the other, uncomfortably aware of the crevasse below them. Laurence, who had insisted on doing his share of the work, had been assigned to the ledge, where he could stuff the remaining straw into their own protective matting without exhausting himself.

They would need all the straw and leaves that the alpine ferals could find, for they could not risk a fire after the sun went down. With no fire, there would be only the dried meat and Dyhern’s brandy to sustain them.

“If you don’t mind, Laurence,” said Tharkay, as they settled in for a long night, “Tell me one of your tales. I would like to think of something other than ice.”

“Of course,” said Laurence. “If you agree to abstain from judgment, I’ll tell you how His Imperial Highness the Prince of China came to duel with a Russian baron, who shall remain nameless.”

Tharkay could not see Laurence, but as he spoke and they passed the brandy flask, his voice sounded less pained than it had earlier, his breathing easier. Temeraire was snoring softly. 

“And then,” said Laurence, “Dyhern swooped in at the last minute and rescued Miss Merkelyte from the Baron’s foul clutches with an offer of marriage. Believe me when I say that nobody saw that coming!”

“Your Highness, you are drunk,” said Tharkay, stifling a laugh.

Laurence huffed. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I am on a mission of vital importance to myself, my beloved companion Temeraire, and the entire Chinese Empire. Drunkenness would be unthinkable. By way of apology, you may relate a tale of your own.”

“Well,” said Tharkay, “you have no idea how glad I was to leave Istanbul. Avraam Maden kindly invited me to spend the evening with his family whilst they celebrated a Jewish holiday, the Festival of Lights. I really didn’t feel I could decline, after all the man has done for me, and damned if I didn’t end up crouched on the floor spinning a top in an interminable game of chance with Sara’s eldest! A man can only take so much.” 

He suited his actions to his words and took the flask back from Laurence. “It’s empty,” he sighed. “Story of my life.”

“Do not despair, Tenzing,” said Laurence, rather more dramatically than usual. “A worthy man like you will surely find happiness!” 

Tharkay would have raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn’t feel especially coordinated and Laurence couldn’t see him anyway. He settled for a long and satisfying smirk as he rested his head on Laurence’s shoulder and breathed as though he were falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

By the end of their third day in the crevasse, Laurence counted himself fortunate that Temeraire had not bolted from their hiding place to search for the Fleur-de-Nuit carrying his egg. Every hour that passed without news from Bistorta increased the dragon’s anxiety, and Laurence himself had little hope remaining that the French egg thieves had not evaded them. Tharkay and Laurence had cut back on the brandy after that first night, and scant comfort remained to any of them.

Laurence jerked awake a few hours before dawn. Temeraire was calling his name. Tharkay, who was sprawled over his chest, sat up quickly. Bistorta had returned, this time with news of a heavyweight approaching. In other, less harried circumstances, Laurence might have paid some attention to waking with Tharkay’s nose in his armpit, but there was no time for such considerations. Within five minutes, they were following Bistorta as best they could in the dark. 

%%%

If Tharkay were to make a list of the worst moments of the year, diving into an Alpine snowbank to avoid being scorched by Iskierka’s flame would rank high on it, decidedly below being tortured, but still. He stood up slowly as Temeraire, Iskierka, and Bistorta began to squabble about whose fault it was that Temeraire had accidentally attacked Iskierka. Between gulps from Laurence’s flask, Granby was explaining to Laurence how he and his fire-breather had flown from central Spain to the eastern border of France with scarcely a stop to rest. 

“John,” said Tharkay, by way of greeting. “You look awful.”

“Hello, Tenzing,” said Granby. “You look . . . cold.”

%%%

It did not get better. Temeraire stopped listening to Laurence entirely once he spotted the Fleur-de-Nuit. It was surely a trap, Tharkay thought, and they were flying headlong into it. Nothing to be done.

Indeed, no sooner had Iskierka and Temeraire caught up to the French dragon than they were surrounded by two dozen of her compatriots. “Rendez-vous!” shouted the commander. “Vous êtes encerclés! Déposez vos armes et rendez-vous!” Even Iskierka saw the sense in surrendering.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurence has the feels. Granby is a good listener.

At last Laurence fully understood Temeraire’s powerful reaction to his egg being stolen. When the French guards had said that Tharkay would be sent to Paris for interrogation and execution as a spy, Laurence had felt a wave of anger and terror. He would do anything to save Tharkay, even ask Napoleon to spare his life. He finished his letter to the Emperor and handed it to Admiral Thibaut, the training grounds commander, then numbly walked back to the sitting room where Granby was waiting.

“I did it,” said Laurence. “I told Napoleon that he might discharge his sense of obligation to me by freeing Tharkay.”

Granby looked shocked, but then he nodded. “Will, I understand.”

Laurence kept speaking. “He saved Temeraire when I could not. He . . . I cannot stand idly by while they execute him.”

“I know,” said Granby softly. “I know how much it cost you to ask it of Napoleon.”

“John, do you remember all those years ago when you fell and Temeraire caught you just before you . . . That’s how I felt, as though he were falling and no one else had the slightest chance of saving him. And I won’t know until tomorrow whether Napoleon will agree to release him.” Laurence slumped on the settee and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Granby put a hand on his arm. “You and Tharkay have saved each other so many times, I can scarcely keep track. And I don’t mean only the obvious ways. I’m certain he traveled with us to New South Wales to make sure that you would be all right, though he would never say as much.”

“Thank you, John,” said Laurence, squaring his shoulders. “He’s a good man. He had me telling stories to keep our minds off the cold this past week, and he told a few himself, as private as he is. He spoke of studying with Haydn in Vienna, if you can imagine. I suspect that ended when his father died.”

“He’ll be all right, “said Granby. “He always is, somehow.”

And so he was, in time for breakfast the next morning. As Laurence embraced Tharkay, Granby found himself turning away to give them a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beethoven studied with Haydn around 1790. Haydn spent the following decade in England and Austria, teaching and composing.


	7. Chapter 7

Napoleon allowed Tharkay—but not Laurence or Granby—to visit Temeraire and Iskierka in Fountainebleau. As he walked back through the gardens toward the palace, their gilded cage, Tharkay thought about Temeraire’s parting words. The Celestial was planning something. He hoped that whatever it was, Temeraire would think it through carefully. Being dragged willy-nilly into certain ambush had been worse than all the wind, ice, and snow he had endured these past few months. 

Laurence listened as Tharkay repeated Temeraire’s words: “He said to tell you, ‘I beg your pardon. I hope you know how highly I value you. I should never wish to act in any fashion that would give you cause to doubt my respect and esteem.’”

“Oh God, what has Iskierka talked him into?!” said Granby.

Laurence sighed. “Whatever it is, we have to let them try. It would be dishonorable of me to speak of draconic rights yet take away Temeraire’s agency. That is, if you do not have any clever plans you are keeping to yourself, Tenzing.”

“Alas, not at the moment,” said Tharkay. “He and Iskierka got us into this mess; perhaps they can get us out.”

They were dressing for dinner the next night when they heard a thin, shrill whine that built into a dreadful shrieking, followed by a sound like a thunderclap. The windows exploded and the guards came running in. As they seized his arms, Laurence looked at Tharkay and raised an eyebrow.

“That wasn’t me,” said Tharkay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The amazing conclusion, in which nothing much is concluded, except perhaps that the Powers That Be are lucky that Tharkay isn't interested in teaming up with Ning to take over the world.

First Iskierka, thought Tharkay. Then Caesar and Tharunka, and now Ning. Every dragon who had spent time with Temeraire before hatching was completely unconventional at best and at worst, well, a force of nature right from the shell.

The force of nature known as Lung Tien Ning, age six hours, perched atop Temeraire’s back as he and Iskierka flew north from Fountainebleau toward home. Temeraire had reluctantly agreed to let Iskierka carry Laurence with Granby and Tharkay in her talons, as the firebreather generated far more heat than he did.

They slept all day at an abandoned farmhouse near the coast, the dragons curled outside and the men huddled together inside. Tharkay and Granby each took a side of Laurence to keep him warm. He was only now beginning to look recovered from the pistol shot that had torn through the side of his chest.

They woke when Ning crawled onto the bed, the mid-afternoon sun slanting in the window behind her. “I’m hungry,” she said, staring at Laurence. Then she turned to Tharkay: “You found those vegetables this morning. Can you do that again?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “If you would help me dig, we can see what I missed.” They went out together. 

Granby found some barley in the cupboard, and Laurence melted snow for a stew. After a while, Tharkay and Ning returned with a squirrel and a few carrots and potatoes. Everything went into the pot, and most of it, when cooked, went right into Ning’s belly. She slept while they waited for dark, trying to keep her hunger at bay.

“Laurence, I am sorry,” said Temeraire, who had hardly had a chance to speak to his captain since the ambush in the Alps. “I fell directly into Lien’s trap. You tried to warn me, but . . .” He dug his talons into the ground anxiously.

Laurence looked him in the eye. “I understand how you felt,” he said. “When one’s emotions are engaged so powerfully, it is exceedingly difficult to think before one reacts. You need not apologize. Consider it a lesson learned. And look at how well you and Iskierka worked together to plan your escape. What one does the next time—that is what matters.”

“But our plan did not work,” said Temeraire. “Ning just had to hatch right as we took off, and she took control as soon as she had shaken off the last piece of her shell!”

“Your daughter is . . . remarkable,” said Laurence. “Do you remember Iskierka’s first few days? Ning is even worse—or should I say better, since she was effectively responsible for our escape. Who could have factored her into their plans?”

Temeraire sighed. “Nobody, I suppose. Well, perhaps Tharkay. He is quite strategic.”

“Indeed,” said Laurence. Tharkay raised an eyebrow, then turned. Ning was peering in the window. 

“I am hungry again,” she said. “Let us be off. There is nothing at all left to eat here.” She cocked her head at them and raised the scales above her eye.

“Fascinating,” said Tharkay.

As they flew out over the Channel, Laurence heard Tharkay whistling Haydn’s Gypsy trio for Ning, who looked as calm as a ravenous day-old dragon could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who commented, especially CMOTScribbler, LIghtLost713, and LakeGirl. You are all talented writers and I appreciate your support. Next up: Tharkay in Istanbul, circa 1795.


End file.
